


Married at First Sight

by wehangout



Series: Gallavich Week 2015 [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:50:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4157634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wehangout/pseuds/wehangout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The premise is simple: marry a stranger, try to make it work, and the couple with the best relationship at the end of three month contest period wins. With one-million dollars between you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Married at First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Gallavich Week 2015. Day 5 - Marriage.
> 
> A gazillion thanks to [Ella](http://hubrisandwax.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can find me [here!](http://wehangout.tumblr.com/)

The premise is simple: marry a stranger, try to make it work, and the couple with the best relationship at the end of three month contest period wins. With one-million dollars between you.

You shake your head again at the stupid shit people will throw money at, at the stupid shit people will watch on TV, at yourself for signing up for this bullshit. But you need the money - you really fucking need the money if Yev’s going to get his treatment - and you’ll do whatever the fuck it takes to get it.

Even if you have to marry some dude and make the world believe it’s true love.

You continue to pace in the downstairs bathroom of the courthouse. Everyone - the producers, the production crew, some dude you’re supposed to marry in fifty-three minutes - are upstairs, preparing for one of ten weddings of the day. You, and whoever you get hooked up with, against nine other _couples,_ all of whom are competing for a shit-ton of money that you can’t afford to lose.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

You pause in front of the mirror and stare silently at yourself - at your tousled hair, your pale skin, the dark circles beneath your eyes. The smattering of hickeys along your collarbone. The producers had been less than impressed when you arrived, saying something about how the bad-boy look you had going for you the last time they saw you had become something akin to junkie thug.

Who hooked up with a stranger the night before his wedding.

Whatever. It’s not like you have to impress them. You have to impress the guy you’re going to marry, and if the ' _scientists'_  behind this shit-show have done their job properly, then you shouldn’t have a problem. You’re marrying your best match. It should be a cinch.

It’s not going to be a fucking cinch.

Especially when your soon-to-be husband sees the bruises on your skin. Fucking that guy at the bar last night might not have been your best idea - nor was going home with him, fucking him twice more, or letting him cook you breakfast this morning - but it’s left a pleasant ache in your ass that you can focus on every time things get a little too daunting.

The bathroom door behind you opens and you spin around to find a young girl looking at you, blushing.

“Oh, shit,” she says, but quickly closes the door behind her. You stare at her, trying to figure out where you know her from. It clicks as she continues talking. “Listen, you’re about to see something the show will absolutely frown upon, but there’s fifty bucks in it for you if you keep your trap shut?”

“Done.” Fifty bucks is fifty bucks. You don’t give a shit what she’s doing. You recognise her now, though, as one of the bi contestants from the show. She was in the waiting room as you left the production office after your final call back.

She smiles, pulls a fifty out of her back pocket, and slips into the back stall.

And that’s it.

You assume you’re going to hear her snort something up her delicate nose, but all you hear is a bit of shuffling. Less than a minute later the door opens again to reveal a young, slightly pimply PA. You recognise him right away as the guy who brings the big boss Loretta her iced coffees. His entire face flushes when he sees you.

“Oh, shit.”

You cock an eyebrow and grin. “Fifty bucks and I won’t say a word.”

His jaw drops, but he grudgingly pulls a couple of bills out of his back pocket. You mock salute him, point towards the stall the girl had gone through, and leave the bathroom.

A hundred dollars richer, you can’t bring yourself to judge. The whole getting-married thing is about the money, and if she wants a quickie before being tied down for the next three months then who the fuck are you to ruin that for her. Shit, you did the same thing last night in a random bar a couple of blocks away.

You lean against the wall next to the bathroom and wish like fuck you had a smoke. Not that it would matter - you’re not permitted to leave the courthouse until you’re happily married and heading for your honeymoon with your new husband. Your stomach rolls at the thought, but you’re genuinely not sure why. You don’t give a shit about having to marry some dude; all you care about is winning and getting that money for Yev.

A sharp pain on your back causes you to shift uncomfortable, but grin anyway. The guy last night - the hottest fucking guy you’ve ever seen, let alone fucked - had left a couple of scratches on your back to match the ones you left on his and you didn’t complain one bit. You like a bit of pain with your sex, and this guy seemed to know exactly how much was just enough.

Shit, but he had given it to you good and hard. For almost an entire night Yevgeny and the wedding you’re about to go through for him had been the last thing on your mind. All you could think about was the hot redhead fucking his tongue into your mouth, the hot redhead slipping spit-slicked fingers into your asshole, the hot redhead fucking you like you’ve never been fucked before.

You didn’t catch his name, despite the seven hours spent in his bed, but it doesn’t matter - not with the memory of his filthy words whispered wetly against your ear, his long fingers tugging at your nipples and cock, his huge dick dragging against your prostate and causing every nerve ending on your body to combust …

If you have to spend the next three months celibate, at least you have last night to get you through it.

The bathroom door opens and your fellow contestant strolls out, throwing you a wink as she goes. The bumbling PA follows, hot on her heels, looking like he just had the time of his life. Or looking scarred for life. You can’t tell.

You smirk and say nothing and as much as you’d like to continue thinking about last night’s lay, your mind goes back to Yev. Svetlana called you that morning with an update of no update, and still, after hearing that same news for almost a year now, you can’t quite figure out if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. Rubbing at your mouth, you try your fucking hardest not to think about it. You can’t be thinking about your sick kid in the minutes before your wedding, even if he’s the reason you’re doing this.

You shouldn’t be thinking about the cock you had up your ass the night before, either, but every move you make reminds you of it.

“Mickey!” You turn your head to see Annabelle, Loretta’s other assistant, running towards you. “Where the hell have you been? You’re due to walk down the altar in less than five minutes. Come on!”

You follow dutifully, tugging at your tie as you go. It’s not like you give a shit about this marriage, but you’re still nervous as shit at having to stand in front of everyone and recite some shitty, generic vows. It doesn’t exactly compare to the sick-nerves of your last sham of a wedding, but it’s still there, this unsettling feeling of doing something really fucking stupid.

You think of Yev again. Think of his bald head, his sallow skin, his thin frame, and what’s about to happen doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter who you marry, it doesn’t matter how shitty the marriage really is, and it doesn’t fucking matter how many cameras will be in your face the entire time.

You’ll do this and you’ll do it fucking well. You’ll fool everyone in this goddamn building, city, world that you and whoever you’re about to marry are meant to fucking be. You have to. Yev needs you to.

Annabelle leads you into a room - not _the room_ , but the room before _the room_. The room before the room you’re about to get married in. Jesus Christ, you thought you were done with this marriage bullshit years ago.

She turns and quickly straightens your tie, pins a single fucking rose - can they be anymore cliché? - into your lapel, then pats at your chest. “Ready?”

“Definitely.” Not at fucking all.

She grins. Some crappy music begins playing in _the room_ and she listens intently to her ear piece. Your heart thuds - not with nerves at getting married, not with excitement at meeting your husband-to-be, and not with the insecurity at having cameras follow your every move the second you step out of this room.

No. Your heart thuds at the fear of not succeeding.

Annabelle pushes you towards the door. “You’re up, Mickey. Walk straight across the room to the altar, just like we practised. He’ll be on his way out as soon as you’re in front of the officiant.”

She gives you her most encouraging smile and you give her some kind of grimace that you’re trying to pull of as a smile. Then you turn away from her, reach out for the door handle, and turn it.

The music becomes louder as you open the door - some kind of top-forty love song that’s must be costing the company a fortune to use - and it’s almost too much. You can barely hear yourself think over that and the thudding of your heart, but you push through, you walk towards the altar, and you try to ignore the way everyone’s gawking at you.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Loretta miming at you to _smile for the camera_ and you wish like fuck this didn’t mean so much just so you could flip her off. Instead you give her something akin to a grimace and continue to walk to the altar where an older guy is standing, waiting to marry you to whoever walks out of the opposite door.

And over the music, over the thudding in your ears, over the constant shuffling of the production crew surrounding you, you hear the other door open. You hear the click of the handle, the squeak of the push. You hear the goddamn footsteps of the person you’re about to marry as they walk towards you.

You keep your gaze on Loretta and her assistants, though, unable to make any kind of eye contact with your _fiancé_ yet because maybe you’re a little nervous after all.

But then he’s in front of you and the music is quieter. You remove your gaze from Loretta and begin to take in the man in front of you - the pair of shoes that look about as decent as your own, the obviously amazing body hidden beneath the slim suit, the very visible hickey on his throat …

You frown and lick your lips. You catch the movement of his own tongue popping out to wet his lips and you look up, up, up into big blue eyes, stare at the shock of red hair, take another look at those lips that are now smirking at you.

“Holy fuck.”

The production crew giggle and snort, pleased at your response, but all you can do is stare at the guy who fucked you last night - the guy who fucked you against the club’s bathroom wall, the guy who took you back to his place and fucked you again, the guy who woke you up with an incredible hummer this morning.

He holds out his hand. “Ian.”

Your gaze flits from his eyes to his mouth to his hand to every fucking inch of his body you can see. Mouth dry, heart pounding in something that is definitely no longer nerves, you reach out to shake his hand.

“Mickey.”

His grip is warm, solid, and all you can think about is how those very fingers were up your ass last night. He grins.

“Nice to put a name to the face.” He releases your hand slowly, dragging his fingers over your wrist and palm as he does so.

You highly fucking doubt you’re going to spend the next three months celibate.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: There actually is a TV show with this name and premise, but I haven't seen it. While trying to work through a plot hole in this Ella told me about it and everything just fell into place. I don't know if what I've written is how things work on the show, but I'm pretty okay with that ;)
> 
> P.S. Please let me know what you think? I'm definitely considering turning this into a series that shows the two of them throughout their three months together.


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